Hostages of peace: the politics of radio liberalization in Somaliland

Somaliland has held several competitive and multiparty elections that have been cited by international election monitors as being ‘‘free and fair.’’ While political competition has been tolerated, or even encouraged by the governments in power, there has been a continued reluctance to allow private radio stations. Citing the possibility of destabilizing Somaliland’s delicate peace, arguments against the liberalization of the media include concerns of radios used to further political polarization, mobilize groups to escalate simmering conflicts and violence, and the capacity of the government to regulate media outlets. This article locates these arguments against media liberalization in the context of Somaliland’s larger nation- and state-building project suggesting that in transitions from war to peace, no matter how prolonged, there are very real concerns about processes of institutionalization and the sequencing of democratic reforms.

Introduction

In June 2010 Somaliland held its second democratic presidential elections. Ahmed Silaanyo, leader of the Kulmiye party, unseated the incumbent president, Daahir Riyaale Kahin, by a margin of 16%. This mandate was more significant than the previous presidential elections in 2003 when the two contenders had competed against each other, and Daahir Riyaale Kahin was voted into office by a mere 80 votes, likely the lowest margin that an African leader has ever received. The elections, initially scheduled to take place in 2008, were delayed several times and there were allegations of voting irregularities including registration problems, and underage voters. Nevertheless, international observers credited the process as being ‘‘free and fair.’’ The success of the elections made Somaliland one of a handful of countries on the continent where the incumbent has conceded victory with narrow margins and peacefully transferred power to an opposition party. It is notable that this took place in a country that has not been internationally recognized.

One of the puzzles, or paradoxes, about Somaliland’s political system is that despite the relative openness that the election process indicates, the broadcasting environment remains restricted and private radio stations are not allowed. In contrast, there is a vibrant and intensely critical group of private newspapers that are tolerated, private television stations broadcast from the capital, Hargeysa, and there are no restrictions on online media. Since independence was declared in 1991 there has been a shared reluctance across successive presidential administrations to liberalize the airwaves. Private radio was formally outlawed by ministerial decree in 2002 when the Minister of Information ordered all private transmitting equipment to be handed over to the authorities and prohibited the entry of such equipment into the country. Opposition parties and businesses have sought to press their case for a license on several occasions, without success. While international radio stations are permitted to broadcast from Hargeysa, including the BBC Somali Service and Voice of America Somali Service, private stations owned by Somalis based outside Somaliland have faced restrictions similar to those that are locally owned.

Not surprisingly, journalists are vocal in expressing their support for private radio stations. They argue that the decree banning private stations contravenes both the Somaliland Constitution and the Press Law of 2004. Journalists have been adept at mobilizing international networks of free speech advocates, including Reporters without Borders and the International Free Speech Exchange (IFEX), to lobby the international community and the government of Somaliland on their behalf.

This strategy towards private radio counters the prevailing international standards that emphasize media freedoms to be an essential factor for free and fair elections, and argue that it is unlikely, if not impossible, to have a credible election without a ‘‘free’’ and ‘‘independent’’ media. Newly democratic states such as Somaliland, or states that are undergoing political transitions, are typically under significant international pressure to demonstrate that they are strong enough not only to tolerate a ‘‘free media,’’ but also to foster such a system. Similar to competitive elections, a free media is a highly symbolic indicator of good governance and democracy.

The radio broadcasting policy that the Somaliland government has chosen to pursue is even more unusual given the culture and importance of discourse and dialogue in Somali society where freedom of expression, like freedom of movement, is prized and relatively protected. I. M. Lewis has termed Somaliland a ‘‘pastoralist democracy’’ in recognition of its decentralized and relatively democratic politics (at least for men). British colonial officers were instructed to be cautious about restricting freedom of expression and freedom of movement, out of concern that it would overly antagonize the Somalis.9 And the Somali National Movement (SNM), the guerrilla movement that fought to liberate Somaliland from Mohamed Siyad Barre’s dictatorship between 1981 and 1991, emphasized freedom of expression, enshrining it in both its Political Programme and Constitution. While there have been notable exceptions, such as the Barre regime (19691991) or the militant Islamist group Al-Shabaab that until recently occupied much of southcentral Somalia, their approach to restricting information flows has been seen as provocative and ideologically foreign.

While there is a strong culture of freedom of expression and debate in Somaliland, there is also an acute awareness of the risks that this freedom can bring. The Somaliland government’s approach to democratization, which includes resisting reform of the radio broadcasting sector while advocating genuine electoral reforms and tolerating a high level of political competition, is unusual. This is reflected in a common expression that the people of Somaliland are ‘‘hostages of peace,’’ in reference to the amount that the people have sacrificed for peace and, in the context of the ongoing violence in southcentral Somalia, the very real concerns that this delicate balance could be upset.

Drawing on research conducted in Somaliland, Nairobi, and London between 2009 and 2012, this article will explore the Somaliland government’s radio broad- casting policy. Where does the resistance to opening the media stem from? And how does it fit within the broader context of Somaliland’s nation and state-building project? The arguments for maintaining a government monopoly on radio have varied, but at their core have been concerns about national stability. These concerns are rooted in fragile institutions, both government and media, and the realities of a journalism profession that is financially reliant on political and business interests, and in many cases, operates according to its own particular logic that must be understood through the norms and agendas it has set for itself. The development of the radio and press sector is discussed at length, offering important context to current media policies that have undoubtedly been informed by these past experiences with the mass media.

There are broader lessons to be derived from the Somaliland experience, and this case offers insight into the types of complex trade-offs and negotiations a society has to make as it attempts to navigate its own path towards democracy, and transition from war to peace, in an international political environment that is often driven by the ideal models of a democratic state. While concerns about the role of a competitive media in post-war transitions are often dismissed and attributed to insecure leadership, emerging evidence about the destabilizing role of elections suggests that the issue of media warrants further consideration. After all, independent or ‘‘free’’ media are intended to perform a role similar to that of elections in facilitating political conflict in a controlled, non-violent way, providing a platform for citizens to express their support or discontent with leadership and offering space to debate, which helps to legitimize outcomes, whether democratically determined or not. Yet in many states emerging from violent conflict, the electoral process is easily inflamed. Weak institutions and a fragile rule of law make orderly succession difficult to achieve. Across the continent, as elections have become more competitive, they have also become more violent, particularly in the post-election period. As media systems have opened to competition and the variety of platforms have spread, particularly with the use of new technologies, the media have had an increasingly central role in violence.

Before moving to the main arguments and discussing the case of Somaliland in depth, a caveat is necessary. There is a risk that this article may be interpreted as an apologetic response for government policies that appear to run counter to international human rights norms on freedom of expression. This is not the intention. Rather than offering a prescriptive approach for media policy, the article explores the complex challenges facing weak governments such as Somaliland. These are frequently ignored by international organizations and media advocacy groups who often encourage an ‘‘international legal absolutist’’ approach. The conse- quences of such an approach may force weak states with internal conflicts to subordinate their local, complex and messy realities to international ‘‘global justice agendas.’’ This limits the opportunities for governments to effectively weigh the challenges of imperfect policy-making  namely how to get from one stage of the state-building process to another in a realistic time frame.

This article seeks to contribute to this debate by focusing on the politics of media policy-making and the difficult choices that governments must make. While recognizing the very serious limitations and weaknesses of the democratic process in Somaliland, it is an effective case study for exploring these debates because it has demonstrated democratic credentials and power has peacefully been transferred between political parties. Although the arguments the Somaliland government puts forward can sound similar to those of more autocratic states such as Ethiopia or Rwanda, they nevertheless warrant exploration. Policy documents, advocacy reports and academic discussions on media in this region of the world tend to focus on how states might be falling short of international standards. They elevate the plight of the journalists and condemn the government for unjustified persecution. This article specifically attempts a different approach by considering the messy realities of a deeply imperfect media system in a volatile environment.

Fragile transitions from war to peace: the political context for media policy-making

In 2001 the people of Somaliland voted in favor of a constitution during a referendum that both reaffirmed Somaliland’s independence, initially declared when the Somali Republic collapsed in 1991, and allowed for competitive elections. Somaliland had engaged in a lengthy peacemaking process that culminated in the Boroma Conference of 1993, and involved the establishment of a political system that incorporated aspects of parliamentary democracy, such as an elected lower- house of parliament, and aspects rooted in traditional government practices with an upper house, called guurti, consisting of appointed traditional elders. This unique and hybrid system was the result of compromise and extensive negotiations that contributed to the strength of Somaliland’s government, particularly in comparison with repeatedly failed efforts to establish a viable government in southcentral Somalia. As a consequence, when presidential elections were introduced there was concern that this new addition to the political system would fail to recognize the importance of the clan in politics, and traditional leaders were nervous that they would be marginalized. There were additional concerns that political conflict could lead to violence. President Mohamed Haji Ibrahim Egal recognized these challenges but forcefully argued the case for multi-party elections: ‘‘we could only be accepted as a member by the world community if we move to a new stage of nationhood. . . . The international community does not recognize congregations of clans, each remaining separately independent.’’

Somaliland’s claims for independence have partially been built on the argument that it practices good governance and is a responsible member of the international community. In an effort to control, or mitigate political conflict, the electoral contests in 2003 (presidential), 2005 (parliamentary), and 2010 (presidential) were limited to three national parties. For much of Somaliland’s history as a multi-party democracy until 2012, these were: the United Democratic Peoples’ Party (the incumbent for the Presidency in 2010), the current ruling party, Kulmiye, and the Party for Justice and Welfare (UCID), which is primarily dominated by members of the diaspora. This policy was developed amidst concerns that a proliferation of parties would result in high levels of political violence, and to avoid clan and region- based parties. There has been pressure to allow more parties to compete. For the first time additional parties and political associations were allowed to run in the local elections that were held in November 2012; the three most representative parties/ political associations were to become the new national parties. As part of an effort to mitigate the possibility of parties or associations catering to small regional constituencies (particularly secessionist ones), the election laws required any aspiring party to open an office and have a minimum of 1000 members in each region.

Despite these encouraging developments and the tremendous gains that have been made in security and peace-building in Somaliland, significant challenges remain. Low-level tensions persist, often between clans over disputed land, and tensions from the civil war in the mid-1990s linger. The border between Somaliland and Puntland remains highly contested with both Somaliland and Puntland claiming the town of Las Anod and the region around it. The ongoing violence in the south central Somalia has not entirely excluded Somaliland. Southerners are quick to point out that several of the highest-ranking members of Al-Shabaab are from Somaliland. This became apparent in 2008 when vehicles laden with explosives drove into the Ethiopian Embassy, the Presidential Palace, and the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) office in Hargeysa during an operation directed by Al-Shabaab.

There is potential for violent conflict in Somaliland and many possible triggers. Many studies have focused on clan relations as the explanatory factor in violence, but they have been criticized for doing so at the expense of understanding issues such as class, competition for economic and political resources, and ideology. While these factors do have influence in Somaliland, clan politics often comes to the fore during election periods. Both the opposition parties and the government have been accused of using the media, and in some cases even establishing media outlets for the primary purpose of advancing clan and political interests. Yet it is the concern that localized conflicts or partisan politics may escalate that has influenced the laws and policies that the Somaliland government has adopted to regulate the radio sector. This approach towards the media has been more cautious than Somaliland’s embrace of multi-party elections.

Poetry wars and radio wars: the role of radio in conflict

People in Somaliland do not have to look far to justify government monopoly of the radio sector. They can draw on their own experiences of using radio as part of a guerrilla insurgency to overthrow a government, look to the ongoing conflict in southcentral Somalia, and witness the use of radio to incite violence in nearby Rwanda.

This latter example, the notorious role of Radio and Television de Milles Collines (RTMC), is one of the most frequent explanations put forward by the Somaliland government. It has had a strong influence in shaping narratives highlighting the dangers of possible incitement to violence over the airwaves. The Somaliland government, like the government of Ethiopia and other governments that seek to maintain restrictions on the media, has encouraged this particular concept and instilled it in the popular imagination of the nation. Whether or not it is appropriate to compare the use of a government-backed radio in a government-backed genocide to the situation in Somaliland, it is a case that is regularly cited during interviews. One teacher in Somaliland expressed reservations about allowing more radio stations, arguing:

More than one million people were killed in only 30 days, one month, and the radio stations were fuelling this massacre. . . .They were creating hatred so I don’t see any reason why we need more radio stations. The question is what would we need for more radio stations? I say: for what? What are they doing?

Wariness about a ‘‘Rwandan-type’’ episode reflects both concern about the capacity of government regulation and very local experiences of the role of radio in Somalia’s wars.

Narratives concerning the use of radio in Somalia’s conflicts are less easy to summarize than in the case of Rwanda. With a protracted conflict and scant international media attention, there are no easy numbers that may help to build a narrative about the role of media in the violence. There are, however, few other places where communications, or media, seems so intertwined with conflicts. This is not surprising given the integral role of communications in traditionally nomadic societies where the most important news was either about pasture or war and the common greeting ‘‘iska warran!’’ means ‘‘give news!’’ Several well-known proverbs and poems convey the importance of news in conflict, including ‘‘the spoken word has the force of a dagger’’ and ‘‘the pain of a stick passes away, but the pain of a word lingers.’’ 

Before mass media, poetry set a precedent for the role of communications in conflict. Warriors such as Mohamed Abdille Hasan, who led the ‘‘dervish’’ uprising against the British, were also poets. While many poems have been crafted to portray and resist invaders, in the late 1960s poets were prolific in expressing discontent against Mohamed Siyad Barre’s government. There were ‘‘poetic duels’’ between critics of the government and those that supported the regime. Dozens of poets took part in one episode, which became known as the Deelley.

As access to radio spread, it quickly took on a central role in the poetic duels by broadcasting poems and providing a platform for voices that were banned from Somalia. In the 1960s, Radio Kulmis began broadcasting from Ethiopia; despite threats of jail sentences for listeners, news travelled quickly and poems that depicted the horrors of the Barre regime spread throughout society  in some cases they were heard on the radio, memorized, and then repeated orally to friends and relatives. The government sought to counter these poems by paying pro-government poets to respond. Duelling poets, and their usefulness for the objectives of politicians, set a precedent for the role of radio stations for insurgents and other political actors.

Radio Halgan to Radio Hargeysa: from insurgency radio to state broadcaster

The SNM that fought against Mohamed Siyad Barre’s government, and eventually liberated Somaliland, had a small clandestine military radio, Radio Halgan, situated along the Ethiopian border near Baligubadle. Radio Halgan challenged the propaganda that was broadcast by the Barre government’s Radio Hargeysa, and encouraged the population to support the struggle by airing liberation songs and poetry. The experience and expertise of Radio Halgan has shaped the media sector in contemporary Somaliland. Several fighters who acted as ‘‘journalists’’ for the radio are still active in the media. In addition, staff from Radio Halgan transitioned to take control of Radio Hargeysa in the early 1990s after Siyad Barre was ousted from power. The legacy of the war has been instrumental in shaping the media today. This is partly because of the actors themselves. Abdillahi Mohamed Daahir (also known as Akuse), for example, is a former fighter with experience across a variety of media outlets. Akuse was the head of Radio Halgan, and was subsequently responsible for overseeing the transition from Radio Halgan to Radio Hargeysa, before serving as Minister of Information. Akuse remains active in the media space and founded the private newspaper Saxansoxo. In 2010, he became Spokesman for the newly elected government of President Silaanyo.

Immediately following the war, Radio Hargeysa was influenced by its roots in Radio Halgan; it exemplified the culture of freedom of speech and comparatively democratic decision-making that differentiated the SNM from other guerilla movements. Radio had a particularly important role in Somaliland’s demobilization campaign whereby the same radio, and fighters, that had once called citizens to arms sought to convince the population to disarm and encourage refugees to return and rebuild their country. Among those who returned were journalists who had been working for Mohamed Siyad Barre’s Radio Mogadishu in the south. Reflecting the SNM’s approach of ceding positions and institutions to trained individuals even if they were not SNM fighters, Radio Hargeysa gradually came under the control of ‘‘professional journalists’’ who brought with them valuable technical experience but also values that were characteristic of the media under a communist government, including greater deference to the government in programming. Even the Presidency was ceded by Interim President Abdurahman Tuur, the last Chairman of the SNM, to a civilian administration led by President Mohamed Haji Ibrahim
Egal, the former Prime Minister of Somalia between 1967 and 1969. This was partially a policy of necessity given the significant questions over the capacity of the SNM to take on a more formal governance role, but it was a farsighted strategy for the region. The victors of insurgencies in countries such as nearby Rwanda, Southern Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Uganda all ensured that they maintained control of political offices, which were regarded as spoils of victory.

Twenty years later the first-hand experience of radio during the SNM war remains fresh, both because of the Mohamed Siyad Barre government’s use of Radio Mogadishu and Radio Hargeysa against the SNM fighters, and the central role of Radio Halgan. This is in part because the pervasive narrative of Somaliland independence is justified on the basis of the persecution of some people in Somaliland, particularly the majority clan, the Isaaq, by the government of Mohamed Siyad Barre, and serves as a regular reminder of the struggle.

Despite the Somaliland government’s efforts to restrict private stations, several Internet and internationally based radio stations have emerged including Radio Las Anod which broadcasted from the contested town of Las Anod in the Eastern Sool region, an area that neighboring Puntland also claims, until November 2007 (it then was closed down by Somaliland troops occupying the town). With Radio Hargeysa’s limited reach, people in this eastern region of Somaliland receive more broadcasts from Puntland than from Somaliland, a factor that the Somaliland government believes hinders its ability to assert itself over claimed territory. A further challenge to the state monopoly has emerged from Radio Horyaal, a station that started prior to the 2010 elections. Broadcasting from Belgium, Radio Horyaal served as the voice of the then-opposition Kulmiye party. Supported and run by members of the diaspora, with correspondents inside Somaliland, the station sought to offer an alternative voice. While the government attempted to restrict this station, for example arresting Horyaal journalists operating in Somaliland, it was not regarded as particularly inflammatory. It was tolerated partly because of a limited ability to censor it by jamming the satellite signal, as neighboring Ethiopia has often done in similar circumstances.

Radio and violence in southcentral Somalia

The role of these few private stations in Somaliland has been minor compared with the rise and proliferation of radio stations in northeastern and southcentral Somalia since the early 1990s. This growth can be attributed to the lack of government regulation, the ubiquitous availability of cheap radios, and the usefulness of radio in serving the interests of warlords, aspiring politicians, or businessmen. Over the past decade, many radio stations have sprung up; some have survived for years, others only months. They have frequently been started with the financial assistance and expertise of Somalis from the diaspora. Most stations have been opened in Mogadishu, but stations also appeared in regional capitals such as Kismayo, Galkayo, and Baydoa.

The growth and role of radio reflects the dynamics of the conflict. For example, during periods when the international community has been deeply involved in the conflict, such as the early 1990s and the present, international organizations and governments, including the United Nations (UN) and the United States have established radio stations to support their interventions. During the UN and US intervention in the early 1990s, when several Black Hawk helicopters were shot down and American troops were dragged through the streets of Mogadishu, Radio Rajo, later known as Radio Maanta, attempted a media campaign to support the military efforts. In addition, Radio Mogadishu, with its relatively powerful medium-wave transmitter, was bombed by the UN after the warlord Mohamed Farrah Aideed’s Somali National Alliance, which claimed Presidential power, used it to incite violence towards UN forces. These internationally backed efforts were widely regarded as unsuccessful by Somalis who criticized the information intervention for demonizing a group and labeling it an enemy, rather than operating with the nuances perceived by many Somalis.

After the international community pulled away from Somalia in the early 1990s, small stations run by warlords proliferated. Many had weak signals and primarily reflected the interests of limited communities or neighborhoods, with their influence and role shifting as the conflict evolved. Indicative of the easy of access to radio broadcasters during this period, after the UN bombed the ‘‘official’’ Radio Mogadishu, Aideed quickly returned on air with another station, also called Radio Mogadishu, Voice of the Masses of the Somali Republic. Several other stations owned by warlords were also broadcasting under the name ‘‘Radio Mogadishu’’ including Aideed’s main rival, Ali Mahdi Mohamed, who started Radio Mogadishu, and Osman Ali Ato, who launched Radio Mogadishu, Somali Pacification.

While some smaller ‘‘civil society’’ or community radio stations existed during this period, they were the exception. Warlord radios continued to be dominant until power consolidated in the mid-2000s around groups such as the Islamic Courts Union (ICU) and a new phase within the radio sector emerged, spurred by more commercial and professionally run stations. With strong financial backing and expertise from the diaspora, as well as an agenda to provide consumer-oriented news and entertainment, stations such as Horn Afrik and Radio Shabelle consolidated their leading position in Somalia’s radio market and started to transform the media environment. Their influence has generally been regarded as positive, but they have also been seen by some as politically and ideologically involved in the conflict and local politics. The former founder and editor of Horn Afrik, Ahmed Abdisalam, for example, has served in a series of political positions in the Transitional Federal Government (TFG) between 2008 and 2009, including Minister of Information, Security Minister, and Deputy Prime Minister.

With the growing influence of Al-Shabaab, which eventually succeeded in seizing power in 2008, the period of commercial growth and the increasingly institutionalized radio stations came to a close. All political actors, including both Al-Shabaab and government forces, have been accused of targeting journalists. As a result of a series of assassinations and consistent intimidation, most radio stations were either left with a skeleton staff or directly taken over by Al-Shabaab. In 2012 approximately 12 stations were still broadcasting in southcentral Somalia, down from more than double that number before 2008. While Horn Afrik is no longer on air, Radio Shabelle continues in a significantly weakened form. Other stations include: Al Andalus and Al Furqaan, both of which are run by Al-Shabaab; Al Risaala, a station started by the former Minister of Information, Daahir Mahamoud Geele, to broadcast religious content as well as news and information; Radio Mogadishu, which is run by the Federal Government and is supportive of its policies including the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) troops; and Radio Galguduud, which broadcasts in the central region of Somalia and is owned by five local businesses.

As with most contrasts with south-central Somalia, the proliferation of radio stations with little or no government regulation and oversight offers an alternative scenario that many in Somaliland would like to resist. This is caused by concerns that the anarchy and violence that have marred southcentral Somalia could also affect Somaliland. As an official from the Somaliland Electoral Commission explained:

You hardly see a radio which is operating impartially, but it is each and every radio station or newsletter . . .based on individual and clan interests, which is really contributing to the current problems in south Somalia, so really the Somalia media is in such a chaotic manner, no editing, no ethical journalists are working there and they are contributing to the problem.

The direct experience of the instrumental role of radio in mobilization during the SNM struggle, as well as being on the receiving end of propaganda from the Mohamed Siyad Barre government, and the current role of radio in the south have made the regulation of radio extraordinarily complex. When considering policies for media development, there is a tendency for foreign support organizations to assume a ‘‘blank slate’’ approach or to provide support to those claiming to be journalists with few questions asked. Both these approaches are likely to be at best ineffective and, at worst, counterproductive.

Studies of the Rwandan genocide rightly highlight the process of education and systemic violence that led to these events.38 Given the differing political contexts, these examples are not directly analogous to the situation in Somaliland. Yet there are similarities. Most notably in both these cases, politicians, and even the government in some instances, were largely responsible for inflammatory speech.

Professionalism, political polarization, and the media

In October 2012 the Somali journalist Jamal Osman wrote an article in the Guardian newspaper arguing that Somali journalists were ‘‘dying from corruption as much as conflict.’’ The article came at the end of one of the deadliest years on record for radio journalists in southcentral Somalia, with 15 murdered. Osman’s arguments sparked a strong reaction on online forums and among the media community in Mogadishu, which accused him of mischaracterizing journalists and overstating the link between corruption and targeted killings. While provocative, much of what was described, including sharuur (the practice in which journalists get paid for writing a story) or beesha caalamka (in reference to those who mostly pretend to be ‘‘journalists’’ to access sharuur for attending a press conference or training), has been quietly referenced in other research on the Somali media and is a well-known phenomenon. Nevertheless, perhaps because of the international and influential platform that the Guardian offers, Osman was heavily criticized for misrepresenting ‘‘honest journalists.’’ A protest was organized in Mogadishu during which Osman was accused of libel and the Guardian was called on to retract the article and issue an apology. 

While Osman was referring to the situation in southcentral Somalia, similar arguments have been put forward about the practice of journalism in Somaliland. Concerns about the lack of professionalism and political polarization within Somaliland’s media industry have been cited as justifications for caution in liberalizing the broadcasting sector. Throughout the course of this research, the press has been heavily criticized by those who view it as overly antagonistic and subject to bribery, political co-option, or the agendas of individuals. There are similar complaints about the many websites and online forums that discuss current political issues in Somaliland, although many of these are run from the diaspora and are outside the Somaliland government’s jurisdiction. There is a frequent demand for greater ‘‘self-responsibility’’ and more regulation of the press. It is expected that it would be precisely these newspaper companies, or other powerful business interests, that would enter the radio market most aggressively if allowed to do so, raising concerns about giving the existing platforms the opportunity to extend their reach even further.

Tolerating, and at times even fostering the development of a free press, has been an important strategy for establishing democratic credentials for the Somaliland government. With low levels of literacy (currently around 45%, up from approxi- mately 20% in 1991), print journalists have limited impact. Nevertheless, the press has provided an outlet for those that are not in politics, a space for elite negotiation and political debate within certain bounds, and it has also allowed the government to claim that there is something particular about radio and that it is not opposed to private media, only private radio stations.

As of 2013, there are more than 10 papers publishing either weekly or several times a week in Somali, English, and Arabic. Although these papers are often of poor quality, they carry a mix of political advertisements, local news, political gossip, and stories from the Internet that have a significant role in shaping political debates. Owners or editors of newspapers typically claim to print between 1200 and 1500 copies, but a more realistic print estimate may be around 800 copies. Nevertheless, the influence of the press exceeds its low circulation numbers and limited distribution networks as papers are often read multiple times, sellers on the street ‘‘rent’’ papers, or customers in teashops borrow a paper. The reach of print media is further enhanced by a prominent role on the radio and television stations, which frequently have a newspaper round-up program that covers news and headlines from the press.

The relationship between the Somaliland government and the press is complex, and as the number of publications available has grown, more diverse perspectives are available. On the one hand, print journalists and the government are often in conflict, and some argue that the government has responded to unprofessional or critical reporting too harshly. On the other hand, the press has been one of the most outspoken advocates of the government’s primary goal of independence; the earliest papers, which set the trend for subsequent private publications, were started by some of Somaliland’s respected SNM veterans who were supportive and contributed to the establishment of the government. While fewer journalists appear to go directly into politics in Somaliland than in southcentral Somalia, in both societies it is sometimes difficult to separate politics, politicians, and the media.

The development of the press demonstrates this complex relationship. Jamhuuriya was among the first papers started in Somaliland in the early 1990s by SNM veterans Mahmoud Abdi Shide and Faisal Ali Sheikh (who is also a member of Kulmiye’s Executive Committee), and it continues to be one of the most influential. It has taken on different roles but it has always been supportive of Somaliland’s quest for independence. In the second half of the 1990s, before multi- party elections were allowed, Jamhuuriya played a key role as the only independent paper in the country both representing the voice of the SNM and engaging the government in pressing discussions on governance, including the campaign for the recognition and independence of Somaliland, and on the future of the country itself.

For some of these journalists, the newspapers provided an opportunity to continue articulating the views that inspired the struggle as well as a platform to put forward new agendas. Newspapers have also served as a political space for those that might have otherwise gone into politics if the SNM had not ceded control to a new administration. In the words of Yusuf Abdi Gabobe, an SNM veteran who was instrumental in the demobilization and disarmament process, journalism was ‘‘an opportunity to continue fighting for some of the issues that had inspired the SNM fight against Mohamed Siyad Barre.’’50 After working at Jamhuuriya, Gabobe started the Haatuf newspaper group, another long-standing newspaper and an influential publication that has often been critical of government policies but unwavering in its support for Somaliland independence.

Many of the more recent papers to enter the market are spin-offs of Jamhuuriya and Haatuf, a testament to their continuing legacy in shaping the media environ- ment. For example, the founders of recently established newspapers such as Geeska Afrika, Ogaal, and Maalmaha have had experience at Haatuf or Jamhuuriya. This shared background reinforces certain fundamental characteristics whereby, despite different views on policies or who holds elected office, the journalists are broadly supportive of Somaliland’s state-building project and the quest for independence.

Press, polls, and politicians

Despite being unified in its support for independence, as the press has become more vibrant in recent years it has also become increasingly polarized and politically aligned, a characteristic that is frequently exacerbated by financial difficulties. Most media owners and journalists will admit that one does not start a news outlet for financial gain  it requires significant start-up capital, and owners (and their families, often from the diaspora) are usually required to continue subsidizing it.

Even the most popular media  whether radios in southcentral Somalia or newspapers in Hargeysa  have struggled to be viable through relying on advertising revenues or sales. The recent proliferation of newspapers and online news sites has made attracting advertising revenue increasingly difficult. Additional sources of income often come from patronage from politicians or businesses, commissioned coverage of events and workshop per diems, typically paid by international organizations. This funding can be given directly to journalists or to the news outlets. In some cases, the pressure on journalists at all levels of the industry to seek out financial compensation has involved blackmailing businessmen, politicians, or other prominent citizens with threats to publish or broadcast libelous stories. This is exacerbated by a trend for younger journalists to work as ‘‘interns’’ at major newspapers or ‘‘stringers’’ for radio stations with little or no monetary compensation from the media outlet, with the expectation that they will receive funding from external sources.

One important source of income has been the established practice that political parties pay for their coverage across the Somali territories. While the papers may be inclined to support a candidate in the first place, they can also switch allegiances depending on the financial support offered. As papers and parties have struck longer-term deals, papers have become increasingly entrenched with particular parties.

Almost all the journalists interviewed in the course of this research claim that their media outlet is independent, or in the words of a journalist at a leading paper:

we are neutral. We covered the opposition and we are balanced. We are known to the people as neutral to all . . .we have to be fair, balanced. To make sure the news is fact, if it is not, we stop it.

But when questioned about financial transactions, or paid news, a different picture emerges. In some cases, journalists and owners are quick to accuse competitors, and it can be difficult to get an accurate picture of how widespread and lucrative this practice is. A journalist at one of the major papers noted, for example, that political parties pay around US$300500 for coverage. Another popular paper claimed to have an arrangement with a political party during the 2010 elections where it published a daily cover story, with continued coverage inside the paper, on the agenda of the party. This coverage was estimated to have lasted for 40 days at a cost of US$1200 during the campaign. While the newspapers do change affiliations, several of the key papers can be identified with the political parties that pay for coverage in them. The financial support from political parties is well known but it is not formally acknowledged in the publications, which can create confusion about whether stories are paid news or which papers are aligned with specific interests. This trend is similar to the relationship many businessmen and politicians have with radio journalists in southcentral Somalia.

It cannot be assumed that formal training in journalism would change the media industry. Such training has been sponsored by international development agencies and direct support has been provided to most leading media houses. Those resisting private radio stations in Somaliland are concerned that the problems seem to be in the structure and accepted customs of the industry itself. While the media and political environment in Somaliland is not the same as in southcentral Somalia, more training in journalism ethics is not necessarily going to alter established practices.

If the case of RTMC in Rwanda evoked a particular use of radio in war for Somalis, the recent experience of Kenya in 200708 has also affected debate about political manipulation and political capture of the media, particularly during elections when, in the case of the 2010 elections, there was a focus on the potential inflammatory role of media in the event of a contested result. Radio Hargeysa was mandated to allocate equal time to each political party in consultation with the National Electoral Commission, but critics claimed that this was not implemented and that the ruling party was given a disproportionate amount of coverage making radio access, and the potential for censoring opposing views, a particularly contentious issue. The slim margin of victory for President Daahir Riyaale Kahin in the 2005 electoral contest, and the prospect of a similarly tight race in 2010, echoed Kenya’s December 2007 presidential and parliamentary elections in which an unprecedented number of voters participated but a dispute over tight results prompted violence. When events quickly unfolded, the Kenyan government struggled to address the role of vernacular radio and mobile phones in mobilizing people for violence. In the subsequent two months, 1133 Kenyans were killed and up to 350,000 displaced. Election violence was not unprecedented, but the role of new technology and vernacular radio stations was seen as central, to the extent that radio journalist Joshua Arap Sang, from Kass FM, is the only non-politician to have been called to appear before the International Criminal Court for his role in the post- election violence.

The Kenyan crisis reflected the limits of the Kenyan government’s ability either to monitor radio stations for inflammatory speech, or to intervene and regulate communications during the crisis. It also illustrated the extent to which politicians will manipulate the media for their own ends, much in the way radio has been used in south Somalia. The Somaliland press has demonstrated far more restraint, and has even taken on conflict-mitigating roles during election crises. Yet the existing political dynamics of the press and the lack of effective government regulation raise questions about whether the government has the capacity and capabilities to provide sufficient oversight of the media across the Somaliland territory.

Conclusion

This article has focused on concerns around radio liberalization in a society emerging from, and to some extent still engaged in, violent conflict. The arguments explored here have been rooted in the historical and contemporary development of the press and radio. When Somaliland decided to hold competitive multi-party elections, the decision was driven by both domestic and international pressures to demonstrate it was a viable state and a responsible member of the international community. Despite similar pressures to liberalize radio, successive governments have put off instituting such reforms. Assuming that Somaliland remains relatively peaceful, as new communications technology becomes increasingly ubiquitous and the conflict of the 1990s recedes deeper into history, maintaining the status quo will be challenging.

A focus on radio as a potential provocateur of violence risks overlooking the more complex drivers of conflict including the historical processes and the enculturation of hatred that must also be present. While radio can certainly contribute to mobilizing protests and lead to mass disorder, the concerns among the people of Somaliland often appear to be deeper, reflecting, for example, the ongoing crisis in Somalia. However, for some of the people interviewed, the media was somehow responsible for ‘‘creating hatred,’’ an approach that neglects the existing social and political structures in which radio operates. The violence in Kenya, for example, is often attributed to deliberate provocations by politicians and growing class divisions. Various actors in the political arena have benefited from such polarization and encouraged it for decades, including through the media. But this has been a process, a sequence of historical decisions and political actions, rather than an event triggered by hateful radio programming. The violence in the aftermath of the 2007 poll was not new; there has been political violence associated with previous elections, much of which can be attributed to fundamental political and economic issues including contested land settlement schemes.

Similarly, the use of radio was just one medium in a broader information ecology. As the Kenyan journalist Samuel Muhunyu noted, in reference to the use of vernacular radios to incite violence:

Before the radios, elders and church platforms were used. They would use coded messages. You have to understand the language. It [suspicion] takes time to build . . .but they were building suspicion. . . .It is halfway through creating an army.

While restrictions on radios might slow down the transmission of ideas and speech, it will not address the fundamental grievances that might lead to incitement in the first place.

It will become increasingly difficult for the government of Somaliland to retain its current policies on radio, given the rapid spread and evolution of new information communications technologies (ICTs) such as mobile phones. People in Somaliland are already accessing content on a variety of platforms, and some of the most innovative developments in Africa in mobile banking are occurring in Somaliland where residents enjoy one of the fastest Internet connections and some of the lowest mobile phone rates on the continent. Internet radio operating from outside Somaliland, is likely to become a growing phenomenon and satellite dishes are increasingly ubiquitous. While only the privileged few in Somalia actually own a television set or satellite dish, there is a trend towards more television stations such as the private stations Horn Cable TV and Universal TV, both of which are connected with diaspora communities. Teashops and other public places (such as hotels, shops, etc.) often have televisions turned on and tuned to one of these stations, and satellite television has a role in connecting people in rural areas. Given the lack of local radio with a national reach, stations like Horn Cable TV are important sources of news for people outside the capital. It has played a central role in elections and has given airtime to opposition parties as well as the government.

With Somaliland’s well-connected and integrated diaspora leading much of the investment in the media and technology sector, and a more general trend towards openness, combined with a culture of communication that is conducive to freedom of expression (including a highly entrepreneurial and influential business sector), it appears increasingly unlikely that the government will be able to maintain a radio monopoly indefinitely. For years the government has stated its intention to liberalize the radio sector, and it has made broadcasting reform one of its national development priorities between 2012 and 2016. The challenge will be how to manage this liberalization to reduce the potential role of the media in violence along with the development of viable regulatory institutions.

The focus on potentially destructive aspects of the media overlooks some of the significant positive contributions that the private media, and particularly the private press in Somaliland, have achieved. Print journalists have demonstrated self- discipline and the media have had a conflict-mitigating role. Apart from the news and information the press conveys about development, security, and politics, it has provided a space for negotiating conflict and power among elites. The authority for this mediating role has stemmed from the credentials and respect of the older journalists and SNM veterans. This factor proved important during the 2010 election period when journalists were called to negotiate the repeated postponement of the elections. In addition, the press has regularly served as a forum where members of government, aspiring politicians or policymakers can test out ideas, be criticized, and have input that allows them to refine their proposals accordingly. There is often dialogue and debate across publications, which has allowed space for political conflict to be discussed, and in some cases, it can be seen as having a positive impact on reducing tensions and the possibility of violence.

Despite these potentially positive contributions, and the weaknesses in the Somaliland government’s current policy towards private radio stations, the concerns about the destabilizing aspects of radio for a society that has limited governing capacity are not easily dismissed. More than simply supporting the political party in power, these arguments raise questions about the process of sequencing reforms that open spaces for political competition and the development of institutions in post- conflict states. The arguments are a push against the more ‘‘legal absolutist approach’’ of best practices and they consider the challenging trade-offs and choices that the government of Somaliland faces. This should not be misinterpreted as arguing that Somaliland is not ready for media freedom or human rights, but rather, that greater attention needs to be placed on the process of media policy-making. Somaliland has made clear its intentions to subscribe to international norms and laws relating to democratic elections and there are indications that the government also seeks to foster the development of an open and vibrant media system. Allowing greater freedom for print media than radio may make sense at a particular junction in the evolution of a society but credible due process, and the development of mechanisms for oversight and media regulation that are rooted in transparency and fairness can also help to empower the more positive contributions of Somaliland’s media to post-conflict reconstruction.

By Nicole Stremlau